The Key
by Audrey Greenleaf
Summary: Eventual Spot x Reader pairing. Your parents were killed in a house fire, and in order to protect your little brother, you dress up as a boy and join the Brooklyn newsies. Secrets about Spot's past will be revealed, and there will be a sequel! Rated T for mild language and violence.
1. Your life turns upside down

Disclaimer: I only own my OCs, but there are too many to list right now... I'm guessing you'll know which characters aren't mine! :P

"Stay with me, Danny!"

"But (YN)–"

"Daniel! Get over here!" You grab your little brother by the elbow and guide him through the crowd.

"Excuse me, please!" You say, making your way to the front. The sun is setting on the horizon, and you need to get home. You don't understand why people are gathering on your lawn, until you get to your house. Or rather, where your house used to be. Now there is nothing but a few charred walls surrounding a pile of ashes and burnt wooden planks.

You stare at the smoldering ruins, horrified. Danny starts to cry and crumples to the ground. You wish you could do the same, but you know that you have to be strong for him, so you sit next to him comfortingly.

"Pardon me," a man's voice says behind you. "Are you the (YLN) children?"

You look behind you and see a tall man in a black suit standing there. You rise to your feet, and pull Danny up with you. "Yes, sir. We are." Questions flood out of your mouth. "What happened? Where are our parents? How–"

"Please, come with me. I represent a children's home where you will stay until further accommodations can be arranged." He gestures to an official-looking carriage with the words 'Children's Refuge' stamped on the door.

"Please, sir. Who are you?" You ask.

The man turns around and smiles a cruel-looking smile. "Snyder. Mr. Snyder."

"Tell me the whole story."

You take a deep breath. "Our parents let us go to the fair for the evening. They gave us 15 cents to buy supper, but it was getting late, so we decided to head home. You know what happened next."

Snyder leans back in his chair, considering the story. You can't take it anymore. You stand up and ask forcefully, "Sir, you promised us answers. Tell us, where are our parents?"

He looks surprised at your sudden change and says, "They're gone."

"Dead?" You whisper.

He nods. "I'm afraid so."

Danny starts to cry again, but this time you do the same. "What's going to happen to us?"

"Tomorrow, you will be sent to St. Agnes's Home for Girls, but it's too late to leave tonight. Daniel will stay here."

You look up. "No. We can't be separated. We have to stay together."

Snyder shrugs. "I'm sorry, miss, but that's all I can do for you."

Please leave feedback! It will be very appreciated!


	2. A daring escape

Sorry for not posting! I was on vacation... Yeah. On with the story.

"No! Please, sir. We can't be separated! Let us out!" The key turns in the door and Snyder leaves.

You turn around and survey the room. Two twin beds line the back wall, and two dusty night stands join them. To be honest, it looks more like a prison cell than a bedroom.

Footsteps sound out in the hall. "What's gonna happen to us?" whispers Danny.

"I don't know," you reply. "We have to escape."

The footsteps stop. The doorknob rattles, and you back away slowly. With a creak, the door swings open and you sigh in relief. The person who stands there is not Snyder, but a boy your age or just a bit older.

He studies you and your brother. "Ah know how ya can escape, but it'll cost ya. What's yer name?"

You look at him, puzzled. "How did you get in here? The door was locked."

He smiles and holds up a wire. "Ah have my ways. Now, you didn't answer me question."

"(YN)," you say. "And this is Danny."

"Ah'm pleased ta make yer acquaintance. Mah name is Francis Sullivan." He gives a mock bow.

"Now, what'd you say? About escaping?"

He grins broadly. "It just so happens that tonight, Ah'm bustin' outta here. Ah can take you an' little Danny," he ruffles Danny's hair. "But for a fee."

You look down at your pocket. You don't know if you can trust this boy. You look at Danny and realize, you have to. There's no other way to support your brother. You take a nickel and press it into his palm. "I'm in."

Francis sets the coin down on a table to let you know he isn't stealing it, then leaves. He comes back and throws a pile of clothes at you. "Here. Put these on."

You look down at them and grimace. Boy's clothes. "What? Why?"

"The streets ain't no place for a girl. An' besides, Ah don't think our escape will get very far if can't run." He gestures to your dress.

You sigh. "Fine." He takes Danny and goes outside, leaving you alone. You examine the clothes more carefully. There is a pair of light brown pants, a faded green-striped shirt, and a pair of blue suspenders. You put it on and look in the mirror. You look like a boy, except...

"Yer hair," he says, and hands you a pocket knife. You slide the blade out and take a deep breath. A silent tear trickles down your cheek as you watch your beautiful locks flutter to the ground.

You look into the mirror again and barely recognize yourself. You run your fingers through your hair and adjust your clothes.

"Are you ready?" He asks, and you nod.

"Let's go."

Francis leads you and Danny to a window at the end of a hall. He ties a rope to the curtain hook and drops the rest. "Ladies first," he says, and gestures to the window.

"Oh, no. I am not going out that window first. Besides, I'm not a 'lady' anymore, remember?"

He grins and lowers himself out the window. He slides down the rope in a matter of seconds and lands on his feet. "Come down!" He calls. "It's not that far!"

You grab the rope and look down. It sure seems like a long way. Danny grabs onto your waist and you start to lower the both of you out the window. You look down and your eyes widen. The ground looms before you.

You start to hyperventilate. And because you get scared, Danny does too, about ten times worse. He starts to slip, but you grab him. "It's ok," you try to reassure him. "We're going to be just fine."

You make your way down slowly, until you are about seven feet above the ground. "Danny," Francis whispers gently. "Drop. I'll catch you."

He does, and you slip down the rest of the way. You dust yourself off and whisper, "What now?"

"Now, we get a ride from the governor!"


	3. First night on the streets (kind of)

Francis leads you and Danny to the front gate. A fancy carriage waits for you there. "This is our ride."  
About twenty feet down the driveway, the front door opens. "Thank you for visiting, Governor." Snyder's voice says. A silhouetted figure tips his hat, and the door closes.  
"Come on!" Francis urges you, and rolls under the carriage.  
The figure starts to walk down the path. "What do I do?" You whisper. He grabs your arm and pulls you and Danny under.  
"Don't touch the ground when it starts to move. Grab on ta this," he says, and holds onto a bar underneath. "Put yer feet here, and whatever ya do, don't touch the axle!"  
The carriage door opens and shuts. The driver snaps the reins, and the horses start to trot. You do everything Francis told you to do, and so does Danny.  
After a few minutes, just as your arms start to feel like they're going to fall off, Francis drops and rolls away, dodging the wheels.  
You realize that you have to do the same, or else you will ride all the way to Albany. You lean over to Danny. "Hold on to me," you whisper. You drop and start to roll, but the extra weight of you're brother doesn't allow you to be very fast. You land in a puddle and the carriage wheel heads straight towards you! You scream.  
Francis runs at the carriage headlong and slams into it, causing it to swerve. Governor Roosevelt peers out of his window. "What are you children doing here?"  
Francis looks down at you. "Run!"  
You don't have to be told twice. You grab Danny's hand, stand up, and run as fast as you can for several blocks.  
Francis stops in an alley and swears loudly. You step back with a horrified look on your face. He glances at you. "Ah'm sorry, he says. "Ya probably haven't heard much of that in your life, but ya'd better get used to it. Out in the streets you'll be hearin' quite a bit of it."  
The angry look returns to his face. "What were you thinkin'? Y'almost got yerself killed, or both of us caught. Ah'd been plannin' that escape fer weeks! Y'almost ruined it!"  
"But I didn't," you remind him.  
He scowls. "I gotcha out, but now yer on yer own."  
"What are you going to do now?"  
He pauses, then replies, "Ah think Ah'm gonna work fer The World. Be a newsie. It seems like an easy way ta make a livin'."  
He looks at you. "Well, it's been nice doin' business with ya!"  
You smile. "Thanks for breaking us out, Francis."  
He smiles back, turns around, and walks away.  
You look down at Danny. "I guess we're on our own now."

NEXT CHAPTER WE MEET SPOT YAY


	4. Enter Spot

Author's note: I am COMPELETLY AWARE that the word ginger meaning redhead did not come to the U.S. until the mid-late 1900's. The redhead OC named Ginger has an interesting backstory that I may or may not write.

Danny looks up at you. "Where are we going now?"

You start to walk aimlessly up the street. "I don't know. We can probably stay in the shed in our yard."

"No, I mean later. Where are we going to live? How are we going to eat?"

You give it some thought. "I suppose we could become newsies, like Francis will. What was the name of the paper Dad used to get?"

Danny grins. "The Eagle!"

You ruffle his hair. "Yes, that's right. We can work there. The newsies all live in the same building, I think. We would have a place to eat, sleep, and work."

You cross the Brooklyn Bridge and walk to your lawn. You look upon the ruins sadly for a moment, then trudge to the backyard and into the shed.

The next morning, you wander around downtown Brooklyn until by chance you come across the newspaper building. A metal gate stands open, leading to a courtyard filled with young boys and bundles of newspapers. Above the gate is written, 'Brooklyn Daily Eagle.' You take a deep breath and step through, grasping Danny's hand. A hush falls over the crowd, and a hundred eyes stare at you.

A big, muscular boy of about 17 with wild red hair saunters up to you. "Just whatta ya think yer doin' here?"

You try to speak, but you can't find your voice. He grabs you by the collar and lifts you up so your face is level with his. "Well? Talk!"

"Ginger, Ginger. Is this how we treat our guests?" A boy about your age confidently walks up to the boy called Ginger. The spectators straighten themselves up and stand, watching the scene. This boy is smaller than most of them, but he is obviously the leader. "Put the poor boy down."

Ginger obeys with a huff. The boy stands in front of you and sizes you up. He holds a black cane with a golden tip in one hand and pile of newspapers in the other. "What's yer name, boy?"

You say the first boy name that pops into your head. "John."

His face hardens for a moment, then he crouches down to Danny's level. And yours?"

Danny answers, and the boy stands back up. "Do you got what it takes ta be a newsie, John?"

You stumble on your words. "Um... I dunno–" He slams his can down on your foot. You grit your teeth and hold back a yelp. "Do you, or do you not!?" He shouts.

"Yes!" You shout back, finding your courage.

He smiles. "Good." He picks up his cane and turns around to address the others. "Show Johnny-boy how things are done 'round here."

He starts to walk away, but you call after him. "Wait! What's your name?"

He turns around and grins. "The name's Spot Conlon."


	5. Papers? Papes?

Spot leads you up to the window where they buy papers. One of the boys rudely brushes past you. You turn around, but he has disappeared into the crowd.

"Oh, just ignore 'em. They'll get used ta ya," Spot reassures you.

You turn to the man behind the counter. "How much do papers cost?"

You hear snickering behind you. "We sell 'em ta you fer 1/2 a penny a pape. You sell 'em ta customers fer twice that."

"So... How many papes(?) can I get for a dime?" You reach your hand into your back pocket. "Wait! It's gone!" You spin around. "Who took it?"

Spot sighs. "Murky, get over here."

A boy about Danny's age steps forward. With a mischievous grin, he pulls a coin out of his pocket and flips it to you.

You catch it and examine it closely. It appears to be the same dime. "How did you..." you start to ask, but you realize, Murky was the boy who bumped into you.

"Murky's our best pickpocket," Spot explains. "He could steal the shirt off yer back an' ya wouldn't even notice."

You tuck your shirt in tighter, hoping that Spot is exaggerating. You look back at the man behind the counter. You set the dime on the tabletop and he hands you 20 papes.

"Thank you," you say and step away, letting the next person in line buy theirs. You look around, notice the boys who have already bought theirs, and stand by them. You watch, waiting to see what they do next.

Spot notices you just standing around and walks over to you. "John, Ah'd like ya ta meet some of the other newsies. You've already met Ginger," he gestures to the tall redhead who grunts and stalks off.

Spot continues, "This is Top Hat," a short boy a few years younger than you but a few years older than Danny tips a (probably stolen) top hat. "Patrick," a nervous little kid gives you a half-hearted smile and runs off. "And Switchblade." A sly-looking boy smirks at you, then walks away.

"Switchblade?" you ask. "Does he actually own one?"

Spot laughs. "Ha! No."

You're sure there's a story behind that name, but you decide not to pursue it further. "What do we do now?"

"Ya don't have a selling spot, do ya?" You shake your head. "Well, you can sell with me today." He looks down at Danny. "Go run after Patrick, the little ones always sell together." Danny obeys.

"Wait, but..." You protest, but he's already gone.

"It's alright. They'll take care of him." He starts to walk out, and you follow.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" You ask.

He looks straight into your eyes. "You an' me, we're the same. Ah started out just like you. Nervous, shy, soft. But someone was there who taught me everything. Ah vowed that Ah would help the person who needed it. Most people here grew up on the streets. They already know how to survive. You, Ah think, do not."

You shake your head, then ask, "Just out of curiosity, who was it that helped you?"

He smiles to himself. "Believe it or not, it was Ginger. He used to be much nicer than he is now."

"What happened?"

Spot's face darkens. "The old leader – his name was Rickety – he chose me ta be the next leader instead of Ginger. He got angry. We fought, Ah won."

You roll your eyes when he's not looking. That's why Ginger's so mad? Boys get angry over the silliest things. "I'm sure Rickety had his reasons."

He looks at his feet. "Yeah, he did." He changes the subject. "What do ya think about sellin' in front of the library?" That's where Ah usually sell."

You feel disappointed in yourself. You were getting to him, but then you ruined it. "Sure," you say.

Spot introduces you to his regular customers, and after a while he sends you to the next city block to try selling on your own. Before you know it, all your papes are gone and the sun is setting over the city.

Spot brings you to the lodging house and leads you around the side and to the back door. "Mrs. Kirby?" He calls.

A middle-aged woman with a kind face appears. "Spot Conlon! How many times have I told you not to..." She stops when she sees you and smiles.

"You're new, aren't you? What's your name?"

"I'm John. My brother Danny is selling with Patrick and them."

"Come in! We'll get you registered to stay here." She walks through the door, and you look over your shoulder at Spot.

"Go!" He says, and you do.

You follow Mrs. Kirby up to a large office with a plain wooden desk in the middle. She digs through a cabinet and plucks out a form. "How old are you, dear?" You tell her, and she asks, "And your last name?"

You blurt out the most generic last name you can think of. "Smith."

She looks up, skeptically. "Your name is John Smith?"

Ugh. I am such an idiot, you think, but you put on a blank face and say, "Yes. My parents had a weird sense of humor."

She laughs good-naturedly. "Alright, John Smith. Come with me." She leads you down a flight of stairs and to a room that has walls lined with lockers.

She hands you a key. "This is for your locker, number 48."

You nod and pocket the key. She looks at you again. "You don't have any other clothes, do you?"

You shake your head.

She thinks for a moment, then gestures for you to follow. "Come with me," she says, and walks down another flight of stairs.

You get to a cellar with boxes and boxes of clothes – both boy's and girl's – stacked neatly against the walls. "Donation boxes. Pick out something you like." She leaves.

You dig through the box with clothes about your size, and see something that catches your eye. You hold up a beautiful crimson dress, one a girl would only wear on Sundays. It is the loveliest thing you've ever seen, and it looks similar to one your mom has. You blink back tears and correct yourself. Had.

You stuff the dress and a set of boy's clothes into a bag from another box and head back to the locker room. It is now swarming with boys shoving each other and waiting in line for the stalls. A few shirtless boys converse in the corner and you turn you head uncomfortably. You don't know if you will be able to get used to this.

You see Danny and the rest of the younger boys sitting in a circle on the ground playing marbles. He waves at you, and you smile.

"Oh! John!" Spot calls to you from across the room. You walk over, and he continues. "After Mrs. Kirby let us in, she told me ta tell ya ta put yer stuff away an' bring Danny up ta her office ta finish gettin' registered."

You nod and start to leave, but he puts a hand on your shoulder. "Um, John? Ah went easy on ya today, but Ah won't be able to tomorrow. Tomorrow, you gotta fight yer own battles."

"Ok," you say, and go. "C'mon, Danny." You call, and he follows you out the door.


	6. Fight yer own battles

Note: I like to keep my stories clean, but this chapter has two mild cuss words in it. Just FYI.

Morning comes too quickly. You groan as Mrs. Kirby shakes you awake. "Get up! It's time to carry the banner!"

As you stand up you realize the hard mattress has taken its toll on your back. You grumble and trudge out to the hallway and down the stairs. A line forms for the bath stalls, so you stand and wait.

Suddenly, you find yourself on the floor, your delicate elbows aching from the hard landing. You look up and see Ginger sneering at you in your place in line. Spot stands behind him, looking at you apprehensively. His eyes say, 'Whatta ya gonna do, Johnny-boy?"

You gather your courage and stand up, looking him straight in the eye. Why do you bully people smaller than you? You don't even know me, what made you decide to hate me? That's cowardice, that is. Pick on someone your own size."

Spot looks impressed. You feel a surge of pride, then you face hits the floor. Again.

"Tonight, at the harbor. Be there." Ginger sneers at you.

You curl up in defeat. You don't understand why he's so determined to make you miserable. Did you do something wrong?

You trudge out the gates, newspapers in hand, trying to be invisible. Just as you and Danny turn the corner, Spot catches you. "John, Ah'm so sorry about–"

"About what? Nothing! 'Fight your own battles' you say, but how'm I supposed to do that if I don't know how to fight?"

Spot looks taken aback. "Listen, John. Ah'm sorry. Ah really am. But if Ah'm gonna help ya, yer gonna hafta be smart and do what Ah say."

"Help me?"

"Yes. Give those papers ta Danny and send him ta sell with the little ones. Then come with me."

You obey, and follow him to the harbor. He turns to face you. "Are you ready?"

"I guess..."

"Good," he say, and punches you in the shoulder.

"Ow!" You cry out, rubbing your bruise. "What was that for?"

"I thought you said you were ready."

"Well, I wasn't. I didn't know what you were going to do."

"Now you do. Ya wanna try again?"

"Fine." You grumble, then mimic his fighting stance. You swing wildly, and he ducks and dodges your punches, finally getting you in the stomach.

You double over in pain. He stands by your side and says, "That's all most of these street rats know how ta do. Punch. But you gotta be smarter than that. You gotta use yer brains. Predict what they're gonna do next and dodge. Then you gotta surprise 'em and pull yer punch. But don't get mad. Anger clouds judgement, and you will lose, no matta who yer fightin'. Got that, Johnny-boy?"

Instead of answering, you elbow him in the stomach. He stumbles, but catches himself and stands back up. With an impish grin on his face, he says, "Good job. I knew ya had potential. Let's go again. This time, dodge till you're ready fer the next step."

Evening comes quickly, and a small crowd gathers at the front of the dock, but Ginger is nowhere to be found.

"Maybe he forgot..." You whisper to Spot.

"You wish, pretty boy." a gruff voice says behind you. You start to turn around and face him, but his fist catches your jaw and you go flying backwards. Black spots dance in front of your eyes.

"GINGER!" Spot roars and charges in front of you.

"It's ok, Spot. I'm ok," you whisper feebly as you struggle to your feet. Spot reluctantly steps back and you stand and face Ginger once more.

He punches again, but you are expecting it and you duck. He swings again and again, but you are expecting it and you duck. He swings again and again, but you dodge his fists.

"Stand still!"

"You wish, pretty boy." you say, gaining confidence. He growls when he realizes you used his own words against him.

"I know why you chose to pick on me. You thought I would be an easy target. Well, I'm not so easy now, am I?" You kick him in the crotch and he howls in pain and doubles over, bringing his face to your level. You take advantage of this and punch him in the nose.

You stand there in front of him, panting and exhausted. Your jaw is throbbing, but you ignore it. Thinking Ginger has given up, you turn and face the crowd. "I did it," you whisper in disbelief. Suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and hurled into the river with a splash. You kick and flail your arms wildly, trying to swim, but you don't know how. You sink under and time seems to slow down. You drift away and close you eyes. The water swishes around you peacefully. Just as you start to fade, something grabs your hand and pulls you to the surface.

You gasp for air and rub the water out of your eyes. Spot floats in the water beside you, holding your arm to keep your head above water. He hands you a rope tied to a post on the dock and you pull yourself up. Danny runs forward and embraces you, crying softly. You cradle him in your arms and whisper comfortingly. "Shh... It's ok, Danny. We're going to be ok."

Spot climbs up and grabs his hat and cane from Patrick, who must've been holding them to keep them dry. He puts on his hat and stalks angrily over to Ginger. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?"

The redhead feigns innocence. "How was I s'posed to know he couldn't swim?"

"He could have died!"

It would have been his own damn fault."

Spot takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Get out. Get out of Brooklyn. Ah don't ever want ta see ya here again."

"What?"

"ARE YOU DEAF? I SAID LEAVE!"

Ginger glares at you. "I'll get you back one day, John." Then he runs away.

You stand up and hold out your hand. "Spot, thank you."

He spits in his hand and shakes yours with it. You grimace, and when he's not looking you wipe it off on your pants.

"Next thing Ah gotta do it teach ya ta swim," he smiles at you, and your heart skips a beat.

"Yeah, right," you say and head back to the lodge. It was in that moment that you first realized you had feelings for him."


	7. Enter Jack

Months pass. You learn how to swim, fight, and use a slingshot. Soon, you are almost as good as some of the older boys. Everyone is amazed by your change, especially Spot. He starts to rely on you to help him run Brooklyn.

Today, you are waiting for the Manhattan patrol to report back to you for the morning. They usually aren't late, and besides, Top Hat has a pocket watch (you suspect he stole that, too). They should have been here ten minutes ago.

In the distance, you see the patrol turn the corner and sprint back to the docks. "What took you so long?"

Top Hat breathes heavily. "Three boys – Manhattan – coming across the bridge – right now."

"Are they friendly?"

"Don't know."

You nod, and think for a second. "Cabbie, you stay here and greet them when they come in. Match, Top Hat, alert the other boys. Tell them to be ready for anything. I'll tell Spot."

Today has been an odd day. The Queens and Harlem patrols both said the same thing: the Manhattan newsies are going on strike. You can't tell if this is legit or just a ploy conjured up by this Jack Kelley fellow.

You tell Spot, and he nods, digesting the information. "Well then, John. It's time for you ta meet ma old friend Jack Kelley."

You stand behind Spot, watching the three boys approach. Leading them is... Francis Sullivan?

"Well, if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick."

Francis replies, "Ah see ya moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view and everything." They spit-shake.

Spot turns to the shorter boy. "Heya, Boots. How's it rollin'?"

Boots holds out a handful of marbles. "I got a couple real good shooters." Spot eyes the marbles, then pockets all but one and takes out his slingshot.

"Yeah. So, Jacky-boy. Ah've been hearin' things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens," Spot shoots a glass bottle with his slingshot and it shatters. The third boy stares in wide-eyed amazement and Spot continues, "All over. They been chirpin' in ma ear. Jacky-boy's newsies is playin' like they're goin' on strike."

"Yeah, well, we are."

The third boy just in. "We're not playing, we are going on strike."

Spot looks at him coolly. "Oh yeah? Yeah? What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kinda walkin' mouth?"

"Yeah, it's a mouth. A mouth with a brain. An' if you got half a one, you'll listen ta what he has to say."

The mouth-with-a-brain continues, "Well, we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. We're talking to newsies all around the city."

Spot looks uninterested. "Yeah, so Ah heard. But what'd they tell you?"

"They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing. You're the key. That Spot Conlon is the most famous and respected newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they'll join and we'll be unstoppable. So you gotta join us, I mean, well... You gotta!"

Spot is eating this up. It's his weakness – praise. If they keep talking, Spot may end up giving away all of Brooklyn. You step forward and look at Spot. You clear your throat loudly, breaking the trance he was in.

"Oh, um, Jacky-boy. This is John. He's my... lieutenant of sorts."

"Well, it's a pleasure ta meet ya." Francis/Jack shakes your hand. You can tell that he recognizes you and you recognize him, but his gaze warns you, 'Tell my secret, and I'll tell yours'. You get the picture.

Boots smiles at you and shakes your hand. The mouth-with-a-brain stares at you, and you hold his gaze coolly.

Spot breaks the tension. "You're right, Jacky-boy. Brains. But Ah got brains too, and more than just half a one. How do Ah know you won't run the first time some goon comes at ya with a club? How do Ah know ya got what it takes ta win?"

"Because Ah'm tellin' ya, Spot."

Spot shakes his head. "That ain't good enough, Jacky-boy. You gotta show me."

After they leave, Spot asks, "What didja think of that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do ya think they got what it takes?"

You ponder for a moment. "Jack Kelley seems like the kind of person who gets things done. With him in charge, I think they can."

Spot nods. "We'll see. Tomorrow. We'll spy on the World headquarters and watch what these Manhattanites can do."


	8. Never fear, Brooklyn is here!

Spot wakes everyone up much earlier than usual the next morning. He rushes the half asleep newsies out the door and to the Eagle building. Spot tells the man behind the counter–Mr. Jamison–that they will be back later to buy their papes, but that they have some important business to attend to. Mr. Jamison has a good relationship with Spot, so he lets him go. He also proudly confides in you and Spot that the Eagle did not jump on the bandwagon to raise the price of newspapers.

Spot leads everyone across the Brooklyn Bridge and to Manhattan just as the bell rings for the World's newsies to collect their morning papes.

"Run!" he calls as soon as he sees the back of the World building down the street. He climbs the fire escape to the roof and everyone follows close behind. Spot hides behind a chimney and tells everyone else to do the same after some whispered instructions. You crouch beneath the short wall that runs along the edge of the roof.

"Spot?" you whisper. "What exactly are we looking for?"

He smiles mysteriously. "You'll know it when ya see it."

Suddenly, you hear shouting from below. You peer over the edge of the roof and sure enough, Jack Kelly and his gang are soaking the scabs. A large door opens, letting in a group of big, tall men carrying clubs and chains. You stifle a gasp. "Spot..."

He shushes you. "Not yet, we need ta see if they're gonna give up."

The men start swinging at the boys with their weapons. Just as all hope is lost for Jack and his gang, Spot whispers, "Now, Owl!"

A little boy with close-cropped black hair cups his hands around his mouth and caws like a bird. At that signal, Brooklyn boys stand up all over the roof tops. Spot grabs your elbow and jumps off the roof onto a ledge. With that impish grin of his, he calls down to Jack, "Never fear, Brooklyn is here!"

You pull out your slingshot and load a marble. You look around for a worthy target. You see a grown man beating a kid half his size and shoot him in the back of the head. He yelps and rubs the red mark, and the little boy uses the opportunity to punch him in the face.

"Spot!" Jack calls. Spot glances at you. "Bring 'em around ta the front." He swings down to the ground on a chain and he and Jack spit-shake.

"Come on!" You call to the Brooklyn newsies, and you lead them back down the fire escape.

"Brooklyn!" You shout, and raise your slingshot. The boys behind you do the same as you approach the gate. On the other side, Spot wrenches the gate open to let you in, then turns and draws his cane like a sword.

Your heart does a cartwheel inside your chest. You try to suppress it, but to no avail. Feelings are funny things, you realize. Sometimes your head and your heart don't agree.

Together, both groups of newsies fight back the Crib. Cries of excitement erupt from the crowd, and you can't help but join in.

"Jack! Boys! Freeze!" a reporter with a camera shouts. Before you're ready, the picture is taken with a blinding flash and a burst of smoke.

"No," you whisper to Danny, who is standing beside you. "We can't be in the paper. We have to tell them, that picture can't be in the paper!"

"S'alright," a voice behind you says. You turn and see Jack standing there. "Ah doubt Snyder can read, much less understand complicated things like politics."

You giggle girlishly and cover your mouth with your hand. Over Jack's shoulder, you see Spot's face change from confusion to jealousy. You feel a twinge of guilt, but he turns and walks away.

OK GUYS don't expect another update until maybe next Tuesday, I really need to get caught up writing this stuff wow


	9. King of New York

Ok guys, I really, really, _really_ hathe this chapter. The thing is, King of New York is my favorite song, but I feel like I didn't do it justice at all. Nevertheless, here is the chapter. Next chapter is the rally, and it will have all my favorite things: Medda, violence, and FINALLY A HINT AT YOUR ROMANCE WITH SPOT! YAY!

"Hey, fellas! Hey hey! Big time!" Denton the reporter says as he enters with the newspaper. He had invited all the newsies to lunch at Tibby's to see whether or not the New York Sun would print his story. Apparently it had, because he slaps the paper down on the table triumphantly.

Boys crowd around the table, chattering loudly. Spot is caught in the back, straining to see and trying to force his way to the front. "Where's me picture? Where's me picture?"

"What's that? That all about us?"

"Look at that, Jack! You look like a gentleman!"

"Will ha git yer fingers off me face?"

Spot tries again. "Where does it say my name?" Where's my name?"

Turning his head, Jack says, "Will ya quit thinkin' 'bout yerself?"

"Yeah, Spot. Gosh." You say. He glares at you in mock anger, then grins broadly

One boy stands up and rolls his eyes. "So what? Ya git yer picture in the papes, so what's that getcha, huh?"

"Shut up, boy. You been in a bad mood all day."

"I'm not in a bad mood!"

The boy called Racetrack elbows him and pushes his way to the front. "Glum and dumb. What's a matta with you? Ya git yer picture in the papes, yer famous. Yer famous, you get anything you want. That's what's so great about New York!"

"Anythin' you want? Even a pair of new shoes? With laces that actually match?"

"Yeah, or a permanent box at Sheepshed Races!" he replies.

"A porcelain tub with boilin' water," Spot says.

The with the eyepatch jumps up on the table and grins mischievously. "A Saturday night with the mayor's daughter!" You blink uncomfortably, and Spot laughs.

"Look at me! Ah'm the King of New York!"

Jack snatches the paper from him and the other boys crowd around, trying to see it.

"A corduroy suit with fitted knickers..." Says Boots.

You think of what you want most of all, your parents, but you decide against saying it.

The mouth-with-a-brain (you really need to learn his name) stands up and shouts, "You know what I want? I want an editor's desk for our star reporter! He's the King of New York!"

Denton smiles. "How 'bout that? I'm the King of New York!"

"In nothin' flat, he'll be coverin' Brooklyn to Trenton, our man Denton!" A red tablecloth is thrown over his shoulders like a cape.

"Makin' a headline out of a hunch," Racetrack shouts.

"Protecting the weak," adds Denton.

"And payin' for lunch."

"When I'm at bat, strong men crumble!"

"Proud yet humble, he's the King of New York!"

Jack stands at a table and gestures for everyone to gather around. "So, let's have some ideas."

"Well, we gotta show people where we stand."

"Yeah, so we gotta stay in the papes."

Denton interjects. "My papers the only one printing any strike news so far."

"So, we should do something so big the other papers'll feel stupid if they try to ignore us," Jack continues. "Like a rally. A newsie rally with all the kids from all over New York. It'll be the biggest, loudest, noisiest blow-out this towns ever seen!"

A waiter brings out a tray of Coca-Colas and everyone grabs one.

"Hey guys!" The mouth-with-a-brain says, raising his glass. "To our man Denton!"

You raise yours. "To our man Denton!"


	10. The Rally

The days leading up to the rally seem to fly by. Newsies from all over the city gather at the theatre where it will be held.

You walk through the doors and are greeted by warmth, light, and laughter. You smile and head through the foyer. An usher walks up to you and directs you to the auditorium.

"Hey! John!" Spot shouts from the stage. "You're sitting right here!" he says, pointing at a chair right next to the stage.

Slightly embarrassed, you make your way through the crowd to your seat. Danny's already there, saving your spot from the chair behind it. He's been more and more independent lately. You're glad for his sake, but you do miss his total reliance on you.

The stage lights flicker on and off, signifying that it's about to start. Jack and that mouth-with-a-brain hop on stage. Jack holds his hands up, gesturing for the crowd to be quiet. "So, we've come a long way, but we ain't there yet and maybe it's only gonna get tougher from now on. But that's fine, we'll just get tougher with it! But also, we gotta get smart and start listenin' ta my pal David who says, 'Stop soakin' the scabs'."

The crowd jeers. "What're we s'posed ta do to da bums? Kiss 'em?"

"Any Scab Ah see, Ah'm soakin' 'em. Period." Spot interjects.

"No, no!" That's what they want us to do! If we get violent, it's just playing into their hands."

Spot holds up his fists. "Hey, look. They gonna be playin' with my hands, alright? 'Cuz it ain't what they say, it's what we say. And nobody ain't gonna listen to us unless we make 'em."

The newsies in the crowd start bickering among themselves. "Hey, David's right!" you call. Spot glances down at you like you're crazy and looks back up.

"You got no brains!" Jack shouts. "Why we startin' ta fight each other? It's just what them big shots wanna see. That we're street rats! Street rats with no brains. No respect for nothin', includin' ourselves! So, here's how it's gonna be. If we don't act together, we're nothin'. If we don't stick together, then we're nothin'. And if we can't even trust each other, then we're nothin'!"

"Tell 'em, Jack!"

Jack continues, "So, what's it gonna be?"

"We're with you, Jack!" Racetrack says.

Jack turns to the others on stage. "So, what about you, Spot?"

"Ah say that what you say... is what Ah say!" The two boys spit-shake and the crowd cheers. A woman with curly hair and a pink dress comes on stage and the boys hop off and sit down.

"Medda!" Someone shouts from the audience. She blows a kiss in the direction of the fan and begins to sing:

 _High times, hard times_

 _Sometimes the living is sweet_

 _And sometimes there's nothing to eat_

 _But I always land on my feet_

 _So when there's dry times,_

 _I wait for high times and then_

 _I put on my best_

 _And I stick out my chest_

 _And I'm off to the races again!_

She smiles. "Hello, newsies! What's new?"

Spot leans over from the seat next to you and whispers, "She's beautiful, ain't she?"

You shift awkwardly in your chair. "Um, yeah. I guess." With a twinge of jealousy, you stand up and make your way to the aisle behind the chairs.

You look to your right and see David standing there beside you. "So... You're name's David, huh?"

"Yeah," he says, then turns his head to see who he's talking to. "You. John. There's something different about you."

"I... I don't know what you mean," you say, taken aback.

"You do know. And I'm going to find out. You may have everyone else fooled, but not me."

You take a step back. "I... I have to go... do something."

He squints at you suspiciously. "Yeah. I'm sure you do."

You dart out of the auditorium and head for the door, but you hear something outside that makes you stop. You peek out a window and gasp. Mounted policemen surround the entrance. You don't know what they're doing, but you don't need to. You turn on your heels and run.

"Spot! Spot!" You call, pushing your way through the crowd. He looks at you, puzzled, and comes to you. You whisper, "The building's surrounded by police!" Just as you say that, David walks up and points behind him. "Snyder's here."

Spot's eyes widen, and he nods. David trots away, and Spot turns to you. "Get the little ones out of here, then meet me back here with the others."

You nod and run over to your seat. "The police are here. Danny, Patrick, Murky, get out of here. Go back to the house and tell Mrs. Kirby what's happened. Everyone else, come with me."

Danny grabs your hand. "Are you sure you're gonna be ok?"

You lie. "Absolutely. Now get out of here, you little pest."

He grins and runs for the emergency exit with Patrick and Murky.

"C'mon!" You say to the others and dash away. A fight has broken out, and Spot stands to the side, waiting for you. His fists are clenched, itching to break some bones. You're very surprised by his self-control.

"Ugh, what took ya so long?" Without waiting for an answer, he says, "Let's go crack some skulls!"

And crack skulls you do. You haven't had a good fight since Ginger. You adrenaline spikes and you help take them out, one by one. But the cops, crib, and scabbers are coming in faster than you can defeat them. Despite their heroic efforts, newsies start to fall down, unconscious, and are dragged away. Not surprisingly, most of the boys left standing are from Brooklyn. But then, Switchblade goes down. Match goes down. Even Cabbie falls in defeat.

Spot fights a man to your right and another one sneaks up behind him with a club.

"Spot! Look out!" you call, but it's too late. Spot crumples to the ground.

You cry out as a sharp pain reverberates from the back of your knees. You turn as you fall and see Ginger standing behind you with a club. "Whatsa matta, pretty boy?" Worried 'bout yer boyfriend?" He punches you on the side of your head and you collapse. Your vision blurs and all you can hear is the thumping of your heart.

Spot's hand moves and grasps yours for a fleeting moment, then everything goes black.


	11. Your secret

AN: Sorry for not updating, I'm a lazy lil shit.

Anyway, here's the next chapter, it's an angsty one. You have been warned.

"John! John!" you hear a voice faintly saying. You force open your eyes, but you only see a blurry silhouette in front of you. You blink a couple of times and Spot comes into focus.

"John, are you awake?"

You groan and sit up from the cold stone floor and realize, you're in a jail cell. "What happened?"

Spot crouches beside you. "From what Ah figure, all the newsies either ran away or were dragged here unconscious. They spread us out between a bunch of cells, two or three in each. Come here." He stands at the barred door and sticks his arm out to point. "There's no one across from us, but Racetrack is over there," a hand waves half-heartedly between the bars of the cell to your left, "Match and some Manhattanites are over there," he points to the one diagonal from you, across the hall, and I don't know where everyone else is. Down the hall further, prob'ly."

You nod and stare into space. "And Danny?"

"Ah don't know where he is. Haven't heard any news 'bout him." He looks at you sadly. "Ah'm sorry. Ah tried. Really Ah did. But Ah couldn't–"

"Spot, Spot. It's ok," you reassure him.

After an awkward pause, he sits down closer to you and whispers, "Ah'm so sorry..."

You shake your head. "Spot, it's fine. I failed too. Do... do you ever apologize to people?"

"Not really, no."

"Then why are you apologizing to me?"

"Ah don't know. Ah guess because... Because Ah care about you."

"Oh." You whisper. He leans forward and kisses you.

You kiss him back and you feel windswept and carefree, like all your troubles have left you. For one short, blissful moment, everything is perfect. Then you realize, he still thinks you're a boy.

You open your eyes and jerk backwards. "No..."

He looks at you, hurt and confused. "What?"

"It's not you, it's me. There's... There's something about me you don't know."

His gaze narrows coldly. "Ah see."

"No, no! It's not your fault, it's mine! I just... I can't tell you."

About an hour goes by. You and Spot sit on opposite sides of the cell, avoiding the other's gaze. A police officer arrives and unlocks the door. "The trial of Francis Sullivan begins in two minutes. Follow me if you want to testify in his defense."

You bolt up and follow close behind. Other guards lead the boys from other cells. Spot whispers in your ear, "Who the hell is Francis Sullivan?"

"Umm..." you say, reluctant to answer, but luckily you arrive in the courtroom before you have to.

The Bailiff stands at the front of the room. "All rise, all rise. Court is now in session. Judge E. A. Monaghan presiding."

"Any of you boys represented by council? No? Good, that will move things along considerably."

Miffed, Spot steps forward. "Hey, yer honor, Ah object!"

The judge sighs and turns towards him. "On what grounds?"

Spot clenches and unclenches his fist behind his back. Hiding his confusion, he replies, "On the grounds of Brooklyn, yer honor."

The boys crack up. You chuckle nervously, thinking, Bad idea, Spot. Now he's mad...

The judges bags on his desk. "I fine each of you five dollars, or two weeks confinement in the House of Refuge."

The boys groan, but a quick-thinking Racetrack comes to the rescue. "Woah. We ain't got five bucks. We don't even got five cents. Hey, yer honor, how 'bout Ah roll ya for it, huh? Double or nothin'?"

The judge sighs again. "Alright. Move along, move along."

Denton bursts through the door dramatically. "I'll pay the fines. All of them."

David jogs up to you, Spot, and the others in the group. "Hey, you fellas alright? Where's Jack?"

Denton follows him. "Look, we've got to meet in the restaurant. Everybody. We have to talk."

"Pay the clerk. Move it along."

Jack is led into the room, handcuffed. "Hey, fellas!"

"Hey, cowboy!" Racetrack calls. "Nice shiner!"

Jack and Denton whisper to each other for a minute, then the Bailiff calls, "Case of Jack Kelly. Inciting a riot. Assault. Resisting arrest."

Snyder seems to appear out of nowhere. You try to hide yourself in the crowd, but everyone is closely packed together. You do your best to hide your face with your hand.

"Judge Monohan, I'll speak for this young man."

"You two know each other. Ain't that nice." Jack says sarcastically.

"Just move it along, Warden Snyder."

Snyder continues, "This boy's real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother's deceased. His father's a convict in the state penitentiary. He's an escapee from the house of refuge where his original sentence for three months was extended to eight months for disruptive behavior.

"Yeah, like demanding we eat the food you steal from us."

"Followed by an additional six months for attempted escape and the kidnapping of a young girl and her brother."

You gasp and try to force yourself back into the crowd.

Jack/Francis looks confused. "That last one was a flat-out lie."

Snyder smiles cruelly and turns in your direction, his eyes piercing through you. "I find that hard to believe, especially since she's right there."

All eyes are on you. Your face gets red and you back up slowly. You open your mouth to protest, but your vocal cords refuse to work.

Spot has a slightly horrified look on his face. "John..."

Snyder smiles even wider, almost sneering. "John. That's what they told you? Her real name is (YN)."

You dart away, pushing past the guards and pulling free from the arms grabbing onto you to stop you. You don't stop until you get to the pier. Your feet ache, but you can't rest. "Danny! Danny!" you shout.

He stands up from behind a crate where he was playing marbles. When he sees you, he grins and wraps his arms around you in a hug. "You're ok!"

You pull back and say, "I'm sorry, but we have to leave. Get your things and come with me."

"Why?"

With a pained expression on your face, you answer, "I'll explain later. Right now, we–"

"JOHN!" A voice roars from across the pier. You turn around to see Spot storming up to you. He stands in front of you, breathing heavily and angrily.

"I TRUSTED YOU!"

"I know, I'm sorry," you plead.

"You're not."

"John and (YN) are the same person, just under different names. You trusted John, why won't you trust (YN)?"

"It's not because you're a girl. It's because you lied." He glares daggers at you. "Leave. Don't let me ever see you here again."

You back away, knowing you could never win a fight against Spot, even though he's mad and not thinking about his actions. He, you predict, would be even more dangerous. "And what about Danny?"

Spot crosses his arms. "He can stay. It wasn't his fault he lied, you made him."

Danny storms up to Spot and shouts, "I'm going with my sister!" He kicks Spot in the shin and runs to join you. Even though he's not strong enough to hurt him, you are very proud of your brother.

"Fine. FINE! I DONT CARE! JUST GET OUT!" Spot yells. You don't have to be told twice. You grab your brother's hand and run.

AN: MWA HA HA HA HA

im evil

Im not sure what I think about the jail cell kiss, your thoughts?

Also IM BEING SPOT FER HALLOWEEN MY COSTUME LOOKS GREAT!

All I need to do is paint the suspenders, find a top for the cane and also make it black (paint or duct tape) and a key on a necklace.

yeah, still gotta do a lot of stuff.


	12. Anger management problems (Spot's POV)

Looking back, I am not very proud of what happened next. But it happened, and you wanted me to write it down. So... I will, alright?

After you left, I turned around, visibly mad and upset. Suddenly, I hated everyone. "DON'T YOU ALL HAVE WORK TA DO?" I shouted, lashing out my anger. The crowd that had gathered dispersed, mumbling fearfully among themselves.

When everyone was gone, I ran up to a crate and kicked it. Over and over and over until my feet started to bleed.

Suddenly, all my anger left and I just felt... Empty. My eyes started to water. I did NOT cry. There is a difference.

I stayed there for what felt like hours. Before I knew it, the sun was setting and I headed back to the Lodging house.

Mrs. Kirby stood outside anxiously, holding a list which I would later find out had all the names of those of us who spent the night in jail. She was making sure everyone made it home safely.

I walked up and she saw me. She grinned broadly. "Spot! Oh, you're alright! I was so worried!" She hugged me quickly, then held me out at arms length and examined me. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No, I'm fine. I guess."

"Good. I called them up and demanded they let you go. Obviously, no one listened to me. But anyway, you're here, you're safe, and so is everyone else. But John hasn't come back yet. Do you know where he is?"

My anger flooded back. "John's gone." I said icily.

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Is there something you want to tell me?"

"NO! NOW SHUT UP 'N LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Spot Conlon! I will not be talked to this way, ya hear? Apologize at once!"

"No." I spat.

She crossed her arms. "Alright then. You are suspended from the Lodging house for two days. You may not come back until you are ready to humble yourself."

But it didn't matter, I was already gone.

GET YOUR FEELS READY FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

ITS MA FAV

PLUS ALSO THE LONGEST

AND SPOTS PAST WILL BE REVEALED

wont be up for a while tho I still gotta type it


	13. Spot's secret

You run away, tears streaming down your cheeks. You brush them away angrily. Spot isn't worth your crying over. He's just a stupid, arrogant teenage boy who yells a lot. He shouldn't be bothering you. But for some reason, he is and you can't stop thinking about him.

You reach your old house and stop, panting. Danny stands next to you, holding the bag with all your belongings in it.

Silently, you lead him around the side of what used to be your house to the shed out back. It still stands, as strong as ever. You walk around it and notice that the rain barrels are still full. You also have several dollars saved up for food.

"Danny," you say. "What do you think about living here for a while?"

He, of course, is excited about this idea. He always used to ask your parents if he could camp out here, and now he gets the chance. You wish you could be as happy as he is.

You pour some water from the rain barrel into a cup you found and washed in the shed. You send Danny to to buy some bread while you clean up. You shove the boxes to the side and stack them up. You take a broom hanging on the wall and sweep away the dust and dirt on the floor. You search through the boxes for the blankets your mother stored in there and lay them on the floor.

Danny comes back with a still-warm loaf of bread. You each have a slice for dinner and put the rest in a cabinet, wrapped up. You spend your first night there. At about noon the next day, as you sort through the boxes for things to salvage, something outside the window catches your eye. You look closer and see something moving behind the house next door.

You sneak up to the house and see a boy there, fiddling with the back door. The man who lives there doesn't have a son, he lives alone!

"Hey!" you shout. "Get away from there!"

He stiffens, then turns to face you. You recognize him immediately.

"Spot? What are you doing here?"

He glares at you coldly. "John. Ah mean, (YN). What are you doing here?"

"I'm living in that shed over there, thanks to you. Now answer my question."

"It's none of your business. Now go away."

You cross you arms. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Spot sighs. "Look, Ah don't have time for this. Please leave me alone."

"I'm staying right here."

He reaches under the neckline of his shirt and pulls out a key that was hanging around his neck on a string. "Fine then. Stay here."

He unlocks the door and walks in, shutting it behind him. You huff annoyedly and follow him into the house.

The floor creaks under you and you tiptoe through the dark house. Beer bottles are piled up against the walls and the ground is caked with dirt. Suddenly afraid, you call out, "Spot..."

A hand wraps around your mouth that muffles your scream. You struggle and turn to see Spot beside you.

"Shut up!" he says. "Do you want 'im ta hear ya?" He points into the next room and lets go of you. You walk gingerly to the doorway and peek in. A man lies unconscious on the couch with a beer bottle in his hand. He snorts and rolls over, breathing loudly.

"Who is that?" You ask, but get no reply. You look to your left and see Spot already halfway up the stairs.

You follow him up and see a much cleaner upper floor. It's still dusty, but it looks unused. No bottles can be seen. A door stands open at the end of the hallway.

You walk through the door and see Spot rummaging through a wardrobe.

"What on earth are you doing? Are you... stealing from him?"

He removes the contents of the wardrobe and sets in on the foot of the bed. Then he keeps going through it without looking at you. "Just shut up."

You get a better look at the room. The wardrobe sits empty on the left, and on the right side is a twin bed. The mattress is bare, and there are no signs of its sheets or blankets anywhere. You walk past Spot and see an alcove on the other side of the wardrobe. In it is a toddler-sized bed. Its blankets have been removed, also. Above the bed in crude, childish handwriting is the word SPOT.

An eerie feeling of dread sweeps over you. "Spot, c'mere. You need to see this."

"Ah already know what's there," he calls from the other room.

You stomp over to him and glare at him so angrily that he stops what he's doing and looks at you. "Tell me what's going on. Now."

"NO."

The snoring downstairs stops abruptly. After a pause, a slurred voice says, "Annie? Is'at you?"

"Oh no..." Spot whispers. For the first time since you've met, he looks genuinely frightened.

You hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Spot starts to panic. "Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohno..."

"Come on!" you say. You grab his elbow and pull him into the wardrobe with you and shut the door. It's not tall enough to stand in, but wide enough for the both of you to sit down.

You hear the man on the other side of the wooden walls. He breathes loudly, "Annie? Where are you?" You hear a weird squeaking sound and he's snoring again. You peek out the door and see him collapsed on the twin bed. You shut the door quickly and look at Spot across from you.

"Great. Now we're trapped. And while we're here, I suggest you tell me what's going on. Starting with who that is."

Spot sighs. "Fine. That man out there? He's my father. Ya heard him ask fer a woman called Annie? That was my mother.

"I don't remember her much. She died when Ah was very little, 'bout three. After that, ma father kind of lost it. He started drinkin', and 'e stopped goin' ta work. Sam started sellin' papes so we could eat, but most of the money went to me father's gamblin' and alcohol debts. After three year of dis, Sam said he'd had enough. We ran away. Sam threw his house key on the ground and left it. 'We're never goin' back,' he said, but when he wasn't lookin', Ah picked it up 'n kept it." Spot shows you the key around his neck.

"He took me to the Eagle headquarters 'n told me ta call him Rickety from now on, to hide his real name in case Father ever went lookin' fer us. He called me Spot, that was the name of our dog.

"Rickety rose to the top and became the leader of the Brooklyn newsies. But I stayed at the bottom. I didn't understand how ta do things, and he wouldn't help me. 'Ah figured this out on me own,' he would say. 'You can do it too.' But Ah couldn't.

"A boy a few years older than me named Ginger helped me. He taught me how ta sell papes, how ta fight, how ta swim, how ta survive. Like what Ah did fer you.

"When Ah was 13, Ginger was 15 'n Rickety was 17. Everyone knew Rickety would quit soon, and they expected him ta choose Ginger as our next leader. But, surprise! He chose me instead. Nobody knew why. Nobody even knew we were related. Ginger, well, he wasn't the same after that.

He hangs his head. "It's been two years. Ya'd think Ah woulda learned how ta lead by now."

"Hey. You are a good leader. Every newsies in New York knows your name. You've made mistakes, but you're on the right path to fixing them."

You lean forward at the same time he looks up and all of a sudden you're kissing.

It starts out slow and cautious, but your lips press more firmly into his as you gain confidence. This time, there's nothing to worry about. No secrets, no troubles, just him, and you.

After what seems like forever, it ends and you whisper against his cheek, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"Oh," he replies. "Ah think Ah do."

You sit back. "That time in the jail cell, when you kissed me, but you still thought I was a boy..."

He shrugs. "Ah dunno. Ah thought Ah was goin' crazy or somethin', but Ah'm–"

A crash downstairs interrupts him. The man jumps up and trudges out of the room. You open the wardrobe door and tumble out.

"WHAT'RE YOU DOIN' HERE?"

"I'm sorry, I'm... AH! (YN)! Help!"

"I'm coming, Danny!" You shout and run to his aid.

The man is grasping Danny's arm and pulling him further into the house. You leap off the stairs and land next to a pile of bottles. You hold one above your hand and shout, "Let go of my brother!"

He looks at you quizzically, but doesn't let go. You swing the bottle down and it breaks on his arm.

He shrieks and releases Danny. You shove your brother behind you protectively. "Get outa here! Go!"

You turn back to face him and are immediately answered by a slap in the face. You reel back, disoriented, but you recover quickly and see Spot charging down the stairs.

He stands in front of you and holds a gun in the air. A for a moment or two, a crash sounds in the direction he's pointing and a cloud of dust settles in the room. Everything goes still.

He points the gun at his father. "Make one more move 'n Ah'll put a bullet in yer head."

The man steps back dumbly, the whispers, "Johnathan?"

"Not anymore." He replies, and takes off running to the back door. You follow.

You run until you reach the shed. Spot collapses on the floor, and you do the same. After a moment or two of heavy breathing, you ask, "Where'd you get that gun?"

He grins and holds it up. "It was Sam's. It's very, very old. It doesn't even work anymore. Ah rigged some stuff ta fall off the wardrobe in a few seconds ta scare him. The dust came when I pulled the trigger cause it's so old."

"Wow..." you say. "That was smart."

"It was, wasn't it?" He turns to Danny. "You OK?"

He nods mutely, and you ask another question. "What were you doing in there?"

"I... I saw you go in the house, so I waited outside but you didn't come out. I went in to see if I could help you." He hangs his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You saved us, Danny. We were trapped in there." You say as you put your arm over his shoulders.

Since Spot has no where to go, you let him stay the night with you and Danny. He leaves the next morning before you even wake up.

WAHOO TWO CHAPTERS LEFT


	14. Journey back

Another few days go by. Money is running out, and neither of you can find work. You contemplate going back to the refuge, but cross that off quickly. In short, you have no idea what to do.

After you send Danny out to buy some bread, you take inventory of everything you have: A dollar or two in change, an old leather bag, and an extra change of clothes. You cry out in frustration. None of these things will help you make a living, and you're running out of options. Tears of discouragement trickle down your cheeks, and you run outside to brainstorm and cool down.

"What are we going to do!?" you shout at no one in particular. You sit on the ground and put your head between your knees. It begins to rain, matching your mood.

You watch as someone walks by. All you can see are a pair of beat-up brown shoes and the bottom of a black cane. The person stops in front of you, and you realize, you recognize that cane.

"Spot?" you say, jumping up. He smiles that impish grin you love and says, "Hey, (YN). Ah..." he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, at a loss for words. "Ah just came... Ta see how you're doing–"

You backhand him across the face, interrupting him. "Check on us!? Check on us!? You left us here to starve, or get taken back to the refuge! And now you think you can just come back here and–"

He puts his mouth on yours and cuts you off. Raindrops trickle down your cheeks in place of tears and drip into your mouth when you pull away for air.

"That's not what happened," he says. "Ah went back to help Mrs. Kirby and let 'er know you're okay. Ah know, Ah shoulda told ya, Ah know. I just... Wanted to make up with you."

"You already have," you whisper, and kiss him back.

He puts his arm around your shoulder and says, "Get your brother. It's time to go home."

You walk up the back steps of the lodging house hesitantly. Will Mrs. Kirby be angry at you for lying? Will she kick you out? It is an orphanage for boys, after all.

You hold your hand up to knock, but you can't bring yourself to do it. Spot sighs from behind you, steps up, and bangs on the door. "Mrs. Kirby!"

Footsteps sounded from behind the door, and it opened, revealing Mrs. Kirby. "Spot! Can you please not–" she stops when she sees you. You close your eyes, expecting the worst, but you find yourself in a warm embrace.

"Oh, John! I was so worried about you!"

You break away gently. "Um, Mrs. Kirby? I'm sorry, but... There's something I have to tell you. My name's not John. In fact, I'm not even a boy."

To your surprise, she laughs. "I already knew! You were so obvious."

You are taken aback. "I... I was? But I thought..."

"Well, obvious to me. You had all the boys fooled." You glance at Spot, who smiles at you sheepishly.

"So... So... You're not mad at me?" You ask.

"Hun, I wouldn't be mad at you if you told me you were actually a horse. You're part of our family, and we'd love to have you back."

With that, she puts her arm over your shoulders and walks you through the door.

ALRIGHT ONE MORE CHAPTER


	15. Theodore Roosevelt

"Ya don't have ta dress up, y'know," Spot says from behind you. You look at him through the mirror you're standing in front of and answer, "Yeah, I know. I want to."

You smooth down the red dress you found on a day that seems forever ago, the day you found Spot. You put it in your bag then, and only found it again just now. After much washing and ironing, it looked like a dress fit for a princess.

"Ya ready ta go? Jacky-boy needs us. Again. He cain't do nuthin' by 'imself."

"I'm comin', I'm comin'. Just a moment."

He kisses your forehead. "Alright. We're leavin' in ten minutes, 'kay?" He walks out of the door and down the stairs, leaving you alone with your reflection.

You run your fingers through your still-short hair. You decided to cut it again last night, not let it grow out. You do miss your long hair, but short hair is far more practical.

You let your hands fall to your sides and you notice something in the folds of the dress. It's... A pocket. You reach into it and pull out a folded piece of paper. Curiously, you open it up and find a note written on the inside. It reads:

 _(YN), if you get this note, I am already dead. I don't know if you will ever find it, but this is a last resort. I was too scared to tell you, but I'm afraid it may be too late. Just know this: my death was not an accident. I cannot say any more or I may put you in danger. Stay strong, and take care of Danny. Best Wishes, Your Loving Mother._

You stand there dumbstruck and read it again. Not an accident? Put you in danger? What happened?

Spot's voice interrupts your thoughts. "Hey, (YN)! Ya comin' or not?"

"Yes, coming!" you shout back, stuffing it back into the pocket. You trot down the stairs and join the others. Spot leads the group out the door and you walk for a long while until you reach the World building, where a crowd of newsies and working kids has gathered.

"BROOKLYN!" Spot shouts, announcing your presence. Everyone cheers. You see Jack, Boots, Racetrack, David, and the other Manhattan Newsies in front of the building. The crowd starts chanting, "Strike! Strike! Strike!" and Jack goes in.

After several minutes of waiting, he comes out. "Hey, fellas, they're over here!" Spot alerts the group. Jack puts a little boy about Danny's age on his shoulder and shouts, "We beat 'em!"

The crowd roars in excitement and everyone rushes in to congratulate Jack. You start to join the crowd, but Danny tugs on your sleeve. "(YN), look! It's the governor!"

You look to where he's pointing and sure enough, Governor Theodore Roosevelt sits in his carriage, shaking hands with people around him. As he glances over the crowd, he catches your eye and pauses for a moment. Then, he says, "You two. Have we met before?"

You smile sheepishly. "Yes, sir. We have. We rode under your carriage to escape the refuge about six months ago."

He chuckles. "Yes, I remember you. There was another one with you, wasn't there?"

"Yes, that was Jack. He's–"

"Right here." Jack's voice interrupts you. He continues, "So, you can drop me off anywhere? Even the train station?"

The governor nods. "If that's what you want, yes. Hop in."

Jack does so and they ride away down the street. You join the Manhattan Newsies in seeing him off, then are left with a sense of lost. You feel like there must be something more you need to do, but you don't know what.

After about a minute, the crowd disperses and everyone goes their separate ways. You turn to Spot. "So... Now what?"

He shrugs. "Ah dunno. Ah guess we go back."

Before you can, the carriage comes back with Jack still in it. "Dave, he's back!" someone shouts, and everyone runs to greet him.

"Thanks for the advice, Governor. Like you said, Ah still got things ta do. Besides, Ah got family here." He steps out of the carriage and is immediately surrounded by friends.

You grin as you look on, and then Spot grabs you hand to lead you somewhere.

"C'mon, Ah wanna ride in the carriage."

You sigh. "Really, Spot?"

"Well, if old Jacky-boy's allowed to, then we can too, right?"

"I dunno about that," you protest, but it's too late, Spot's already pulled you onto the carriage.

Despite your worries, the governor laughs and starts to take the two of you on a ride.

"Bye, Spot!" you hear someone say behind you. "Go back ta Brooklyn, ya hear!"

You start to slouch and relax, but then you jerk back up with realization. "Danny!"

"He's fine, (YN). Ah got Cabbie watchin' him." Spot reassures you.

You picture the tall and muscular newsie in you head and you're not sure how he qualifies as a good babysitter, but you let it go.

"You take good care of your brother," Roosevelt remarks.

"I try my best. My mother said to..." You start to say, the stop as you finger the piece of paper in your pocket.

"Said to what?"

"She said to take care of him."

The conversation ends and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride, but you have too much on your mind. Spot looks at you curiously, like he knows something's wrong, but he can't tell what.

As the horse trots over the Brooklyn Bridge, the governor asks, "Well now, is there anything I can do for you?"

You hesitate for a moment, then answer, "Yes, sir. I want to know what really happened to my mother."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA CLIFF HANGER SUCKUHS

IM SO EVIL AND I LOVE IT

Ok, here are some Newsies stories I'm planning:

 **Two Sides of Every Story:** This will tell the back stories of my OC's and of the characters in the movie. It will be awesome, you should read it.

 **What Really Happened:** The sequel to this story. The reader discovers the truth about her parent's death. It will include snipers, gangs, crime syndicates, and espionage rings. I have no idea where I'm going with it but it will be awesome.

Well, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. *backflips away into the void*


End file.
